Sage: Take the Risk (F&L Story #3)

Sage: Parts 29 & 30

Part Twenty-nine

Saturday, August 21, 2010.

The next day, Sage and Carey arrived at her parent’s house, fully armed to work off his auction debt.  Her mother asked her what she wanted him to do, since this whole situation was her idea.  Sage thought about it, and she came up with the perfect chore.  Thankfully, her father was out all day at a golfing tournament, or he’d stop this plan before Sage could even get the words out.

“So, what am I doing today?” he asked Carmen after the small talk and “How are you’s” were winding down.  Sage looked at her mother, and they smiled conspiratorially at each other.  Carey saw and frowned.  “What’s going on?”

“Carey, sweetheart,” Sage said, turning to him, “You’ll be giving Momma and me a spa treatment.”

He blinked at her.  “Run that by me again.”

A phone rang.  Carmen stood up.  “I’ll get that.”

Sage blinked innocently at him, but she could tell he wasn't buying it.  She was just about as innocent as a girl can get at her age, yet she'd never purposefully project that characteristic, and Carey knew that.  Her mother's voice came out of the other room, reminding her to keep up the stage-acting and not squirm with anticipation of having Carey's hands all over her.  Carey didn't seem to notice her discomfort and kept his eyes on Sage. 

“I won’t do it,” he said.  “I don’t have to.  The rules of the auction say I only have to do physical labor, and no touching allowed.”  He sat back in the winged chair with a smug grin.

Sage fluttered her eyelashes at him.  “We won’t tell if you don’t.”

“I’m still not doing it.  I’ll clean the pool.  I’ll wash the cars.  Hell, I’ll even clean out the attic, but I’m not touching any of that girly crap.  And I’m especially not touching your mother in any kind of intimate way.”

Carmen returned.  “Well, I’m insulted,” she huffed, but she smiled because both women knew Carmen wouldn’t be the one getting the hands-on treatment.

“No offense, Mrs. Honeycutt,” Carey said, “but this is not part of the agreement.  Point me in the direction of a lawn mower or a bucket and washrag, and I’ll get busy.”

Sage leaned forward and slid her fingers around his kneecap.  He jerked, but otherwise remained calm.  “Carey, you are a sexist pig—“

“Hey!”

“And therefore, you need to be taught a lesson,” she finished, watching his face for any reaction.  Even though Sage looked forward to feeling his rough, calloused hands all over her skin, this was about redemption…and torture.  He desired her?  He blatantly told her that he was tempted to make her “a real woman”?  And she told him that he’d never lay his hands on her body, but for a little payback, she was willing to set aside her stubbornness and torment him with a little hands-on action…that held no promise of later action.

Yeah, she was that sadistic.  Not a character trait she'd admire on anyone else, but for this purpose, she'd set aside her objections.

“Still not doing it,” he claimed, holding her gaze.

Sage sat back, letting her touch linger and caress as she withdrew.  A small, indescribable emotion flared behind his eyes...and she almost backed down.  Almost.   “Fine.  Then a compromise,” she said.  “You only have to touch me.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing over his throat.  She wondered what could be running through that one-track mind of his...but this was Carey she speculated over.  It didn't take a Ph.D. to know where he sauntered off to inside that thick skull of his...or rather the gray mass he lodged between his thighs.  With that thought, she glanced down at the stretch of his legs.  The rugged, torn seams of his cargo shorts hid the taut, lean muscles underneath.  Her gaze drifted to the fingers he casually placed on the armrest and nearly sighed.  She had a feeling she'd get more than she bargained for this day.